


Oblivion

by deartabbie



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Detailed Violence, F/M, Hurt Spencer Reid, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deartabbie/pseuds/deartabbie
Summary: FBI BAU Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid woke up with his cheek pressed against cool, wet pavement. Before he moved or opened his eyes, he did his best to assess himself and his environment - fighting to remember why he wasn’t in a warm bed or napping on the couch of the BAU’s jet.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so I'm kind of just trying it out with a short first chapter to see if I should continue. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I love constructive criticism and am looking for a good beta/editor. There will be additional warnings for almost every chapter, please be advised. 
> 
> I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters (wish I did!)
> 
> Warning: Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Pain, and Implied Violence

FBI BAU Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid woke up with his cheek pressed against cool, wet pavement. Before he moved or opened his eyes, he did his best to assess himself and his environment - fighting to remember why he wasn’t in a warm bed or napping on the couch of the BAU’s jet.

Everything hurt. Even breathing hurt. His head ached worse than any migraine he had ever experienced. Licking his dry lips, the young man tasted copper and found his jaw difficult to wrench open more than the tiny bit needed for his tongue to escape. He accidentally shifted his right foot as he gained consciousness and fought the loud groan that tried to slip from deep in his throat; his leg was definitely broken. Agony erupted just under his knee, the same knee that had taken a bullet and left him with a cane and permanent damage years earlier. Somewhere deep in his mind he worried that this damage might not be as manageable to live with as the last injury. With every breath he took, his ribs protested sorely.

Although Reid’s palms were burning slightly and the small joints seemed banged up, his hands felt much more useable than the rest of him at the moment. As a small experiment, he wiggled and stretched his fingers, finding every movement feeling sticky and aggravating to the skin.

Careful not to stir the rest of his body first, he opened his eyes at a wary pace. His gaze was met with a grimy green metal. A dumpster. Reid identified himself to be in a murky alley, street lights illuminating in the distance with their light just barely touching the space around him and reflecting off of the moistened ground. He could hear cars echoing somewhere outside the alley and tried to call for help, however his voice came out in a hoarse whisper - not helped by his apparent lock-jaw.

After giving up on whisper-shouting, Reid tried to remember what he was doing before he woke up in the alley. It startled him that the last thing he could recall was finishing paperwork up at his desk in the bullpen of the BAU headquarters. There was no recollection of actually finishing the paperwork and going home, just being there later than everyone else and trying tiredly to get it done. Unfortunately he had fired his gun during that case and was required to fill out extra paperwork. Reid could almost feel his pen against the paper, detailing the circumstances of the case with accurate ease; and then nothing. Blackness. Then he woke up here. It made no sense to him that he could be so wounded with no memory of anything. He could remember learning to tie his shoes when he was three years old, every conversation he had participated in for the last 10 years, but not how he ended up laying in a damp alley tucked up against a dumpster.

Reid maneuvered his left hand up to his view because it was the only body part he could study from this face-down position. In the dim light he could see that his palm was coated in sticky red. That must’ve been why it felt like it was burning. Upon closer inspection, there were tiny pebbles and dirt caked with the blood, which was slowly seeping from little cuts and scrapes. It was obvious that he had fallen on his hands at some point recently, as he had memories flash before him of the same injuries to his hands when falling at the park as a child.

The next thing he noticed were ligature marks on his wrist. The skin was a vibrant pink, although he didn’t sense any discomfort because everything else was so sore. His hopes that this was some kind of crazy freak accident were lost. Someone had taken him and the most likely reason that he couldn’t remember was that his captor didn’t _want_ him to remember.

After a few moments of getting his bearings, he decided to try sitting up. As he slowly pushed his upper body away from the pavement, ignoring the sting of his palms, the world spun and he dropped back down, too weak and disoriented by the dizziness to stop the weight of his upper body from falling with full force. The landing left him dazed for a few moments, overwhelmed with pain flaring up not only in all the places that hurt when he had first awakened, but now a new pain in his stomach nearly overshadowed everything else. He caught a glimpse of a puddle of dark crimson under him, so he knew he probably shouldn’t be moving too much. In his mind he started comparing drugs against head injuries to explain such severe vertigo and amnesia. He considered that he may be in shock, which could explain the world-spinning, too. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Blood loss would make the most sense, albeit blood loss wouldn’t generally explain his amnesia. Whatever the reason, Reid had to swallow back impending panic because now he knew he would need help to come to him.

The genius took a moment to occupy his mind by scrutinizing what he could see of the clothing he was wearing, noticing immediately how they were not his own. The shirt was a basic white button up with a dark navy blue vest and matching tie, but they had an unfamiliar smell and texture. The very top buttons of the shirt were buttoned against his neck, which is something he never would have done, having always hated the way the top button would press against his throat. He hated it now, too, and fumbled to unbutton it with his left hand. What he could really tell weren’t his were the pants; they were simple khakis, like usual, only they were far looser than he would ever wear. Reid could see the band of his underwear when he glanced down at his hip. No, not _his_ underwear. Underwear that he happened to be wearing. He didn’t recognize those either. It was obvious someone had attempted to dress him in his normal way. The awareness left him unnerved and it took all his concentration to continue fighting the panic that threatened to take over his rational thinking. Reid had made it this far without freaking out, he needed to make it further.

Carefully, yet as quickly as he could manage so he didn’t lose motivation, Reid flipped himself from his stomach to his back. The motion left him gasping and groaning, on the verge of blacking out. Nevertheless he knew he needed to start figuring out how to get help and he couldn’t do it with his face pressed on the ground.

Looking down at his damaged body, Reid could finally get a good view of his front. A large stain of blood saturated through the dark vest. If it were too bad, he would surely have bled out by now. The weight of his body while he layed on his stomach may have helped staunch the flow enough for it to begin clotting.

Reid set his hand on the dampness lightly, feeling the warmth and wincing. He reached down below the bloody spot with both hands to grip the fabric of his shirt and pull it up over the wound. After taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Reid touched two fingers to the most painful area in order to gauge how bad the wound was.

Darkness began engulfing his mind and vision.

Reid forced himself to stay conscious, letting his hands drop to his sides and away from the excruciating injury. The wound was deeper than he thought and bleeding more than he expected. His foggy mind decided would die within the hour, if not sooner.

Reid became desperate, frantically patting his arms out around him in a hazy panic trying to find something to aid his survival. There wasn’t even trash.

The man realized, feeling horrendously stupid, that he should have patted down the pockets of the clothing he wore first. In the right front pocket of the not-his baggy pants, Reid discovered a cell phone.

It was the same as Reid’s basic flip phone, only all of his settings were the factory settings. The phone - just like the clothes - was made to look like his, as his phone had a chip out of the the side and scratches from being dropped so many times. This phone did not, it looked brand new. Of course he had every number locked in his mind, but what could his team do for him right now? He dialed 9-1-1.


	2. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the outpouring of support for my writing! I honestly would not have continued this and probably would have just deleted my account or something if not for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks. Seriously, it means so so much!!!
> 
> Just so you all know, I've been going back and editing pieces of the first chapter that I notice have typos or bad wording. I also have changed the title of it to "Lost" because it will work better with what I'm planning. If you see any typos or something that makes any of the chapters suck, tell me!!!! I'm embarrassed by everything I found after reading back through chapter one! Don't let me get away with bad writing!
> 
> Now, this chapter is pretty boring. But it's kinda necessary for the rest of the story.
> 
> Warnings for Chapter 2: Reference to Possible Drug Use, Graphic Depictions of Violence

FBI BAU Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner called his team into the conference room. Penelope stood next to Hotchner, her features holding practiced blankness that gave away the grave circumstances. Garcia was always bubbly and optimistic, so when she wasn’t, there was something terribly wrong.

“Spencer was picked up in an ambulance an hour ago.” Hotch stated hollowly, always one to distance himself from emotional situations. 

The agents all burst from their seats, talking over one another in a frenzy.

“Is he okay?!”

“We need to get to the hospital now!”

“Where did they find him?!”

“How did they find him?!”

The youngest agent had been missing for over a month. JJ had arrived early the morning after his disappearance to find Spencer’s gun and badge set neatly on the corner of his desk, his coffee mug laying sideways on the floor with cold coffee pooled into the carpet and chunks of another mug spread out next to it, more coffee splattered everywhere. Spencer’s jacket and bag rested beside his chair where he always kept them during work in the bullpen, seemingly untouched. The paperwork he had been slaving over was spread out over his desk and the floor in a struggle, blood smudged the carpet in a pattern indicative of a body being dragged toward the elevator, cutting off abruptly after a few feet.

JJ froze, pulling her gun out and slowly moving back towards the elevators, worried that an assailant could be hiding out. The elevator dinged from behind, causing her to jump and turn around, aiming the gun at the opening doors.

Hotch put his hands up, confusion and worry marring his features.

She rapidly deviated her aim to the floor, spouting apologies and explaining the scene she had come across. 

Hotch cleared his throat to gain his team’s attention. “We can head out as soon as I’m done talking. According to the local police, Reid made a phone call from an alley about three blocks from here and they were able to trace the phone to send help. He is in critical condition and they brought him into emergency surgery as soon as he arrived at the hospital. We can find out his full list of injuries when we get there,” he said calmly, keeping himself collected for the good of his team. “Penelope, please pull up the call he made to 9-1-1 and play it for all of us on our way. I also need you to pack equipment to take to the hospital so you can set up there and we can keep looking for the Unsub.”

Garcia nodded in understanding silently, emotions crossing her face before she quickly got them back under control and scurried out.

“Alright, let’s go.” Hotch instructed. 

The team had searched tirelessly in the weeks following Spencer’s disappearance. 

The video recording of the bullpen at the time of his abduction showed a professionally dressed, average-built man with dirty blonde hair carrying two steaming mugs of coffee towards Reid’s desk, handing him one. They talked for a few minutes, lip readers only able to see Reid’s half of the conversation and make out that he was saying something about how he didn’t know anyone else was still there and thanking the man for making a fresh pot. He sipped from the mug and nodded as he listened to the man’s long responses. The video clearly showed when Spencer had realized something was wrong, slowly looking down into his mug and back up to the man in front of him. As he sluggishly reached for the phone, Reid was slammed in the side of the head by the Unsub’s steaming mug, sending the younger man flying sideways while his arms and upper body dragged pages from his desk with him to the floor. The Unsub looked down unsympathetically at Reid’s still form on the ground. 

After a few seconds, the Unsub patted Reid’s pockets, pulling out his flip phone and badge. The Unsub then unholstered Reid’s revolver, setting it along with the badge on the corner of his desk as JJ had found it later. The man then broke the flip phone in half at the hinges and tossed it in the little trash can behind Reid’s desk. 

The Unsub’s attention went back to Spencer, motionless where he left him on the ground. He grabbed the younger man’s arms and started tugging his body, letting his bloody head drag across the carpet. The Unsub seemed to get annoyed with pulling Spencer’s lifeless form because he abruptly stopped, dropped his arms, scooped Reid up over his shoulder, and trudged off to the elevator.

Once in the elevator, the Unsub grinned up at the camera, knowing they would never be able to find his face in their databases. He stepped out to the parking garage and shoved Spencer into the back of a black car stolen from three states over. 

The car was found almost immediately, just a few miles away in an area with no cameras. Another vehicle was not stolen from anywhere close. Dead end. 

The drug found in Reid’s coffee was typically known as a date rape drug, used to render the young man completely unconscious, even without the blow to the head. The team had traced the drug back to a college party rape investigation across the country, opposite of where the car had been stolen. When the boys making and distributing the drug were caught, they claimed that part of their supply had been stolen from their van during a delivery nearly a year earlier. Once again, there were no video cameras in the area where their van was parked. Another dead end.

Every lead the team could find took them to a dead end. Nothing they collected could turn up a match. Not his face, not his fingerprints, not the DNA from a loose strand of hair they found in the carpet, nothing. It was as if the Unsub didn’t exist. They kept searching and working round the clock, of course, but they hadn’t found Reid. 

“The 9-1-1 call is ready.” Penelope said softly over the conference call into the two government SUVs driving towards the hospital. She had a car ready and equipped with everything she would need for a remote setup waiting right outside, Kevin standing behind her anticipating taking her place as soon as she left to be with her team.

“Play it.” Morgan said through clenched teeth, knowing Garcia would understand his anger was with the situation and not directed towards her. 

_ “9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the operator rang out.  _

_ “Hi,” Spencer’s scratchy whisper said, “my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m part of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he paused to cough and try clearing his throat, “I was abducted and I do not know where I am. I need emergency medical services.” _

_ “Alright, Spencer. We were able to track your phone and emergency services are dispatched to your location. Please stay on the line and keep talking to me. Is the person who abducted you there?” _

_ “No, I’m... alone in an alley.” _

_ “Alright, can you walk to somewhere well-lit?” _

_ Reid went quiet.  _

_ “Spencer? I need you to keep talking to me please. Spencer?”  _

_ “Can’t go anywhere…blood…tired…” he trailed off. _

_ “Spencer, I know you’re tired, but you need to stay awake and talking to me until help gets there. Can you tell me about your injuries?” _

_ “Diddit rrain?” his raspy speech started to slur. _

_ “No, Spencer, it hasn’t rained for about a week. Do you know what drugs you have in your system? Prescription or otherwise?” the operator asked softly, clicking on her keyboard in the background. _

_ He sighed groggily. “The ground isswet...” _

_ “Help will be there in less than 5 minutes, just keep talking to me. What hurts the most?” _

_ Reid tried to enunciate his words more carefully. “Can I... talk... to my mmom?” _

_ Sirens blared in the background, getting closer. _

_ “Spencer, I need you to try to answer the questions I’m asking you, okay?” the operator said gently. _

_ Silence.. _

_ “Spencer, keep talking to me. Do you hear the sirens?” _

_ “Can’t…” _

_ There was a thump and the call ended. _

 

“That was it.” Garcia said over the phone softly, clutching her purse and putting in a bluetooth earpiece as she left her computer room.

Morgan slammed his hands on the steering wheel, overwhelmed with anger and worry. 

“Morgan,” Hotchner communicated into the phone speaker as he drove himself and Rossi in the leading SUV, “Reid is alive and safe, and now we’ll have more evidence to use to catch whoever did this.”

“How is he going to forgive us for letting him rot somewhere for over a month?: Morgan snapped. 

“Spence wouldn’t see things that way,” JJ said, trying to soothe not Morgan’s worries as well as her own from the passenger seat of the second SUV, “he wouldn’t hold anything against any of us. He’s a genius, he knows how much we love him and that we have done everything possible.” JJ was on the verge of tears.

Morgan clenched his jaw, glaring out the windshield as he drove. “Yeah, well, I don’t forgive us. We should have been the ones to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more comments and support I get, the more motivated I'll be. The more motivated I am, the faster I'll update! Thank you all so much!!


	3. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for the wait! It's probably going to sound like every other author's excuse but I really had a lot going on in the last few weeks - including starting a new job. BUT hopefully I've made up for it with this chapter being over twice as long as the other chapters. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK, IT MOTIVATES ME TO CONTINUE WRITING. I WILL STOP IF NO ONE TELLS ME IT'S GOOD. I'M COMPLIMENT HUNGRY.  
> Don't be afraid to point out any mistakes, it's totally embarrassing when I find them myself (kinda like when you walk around all day and no one tells you something is in your teeth so you find out when you get home and look in the mirror). PLEASE point out anything you see as wrong!
> 
> Warnings: This chapter DOES have descriptions of injuries, although I made them sound as medical as possible. There is a mention of blood, mentions of violence and rape, but nothing extremely graphic yet. Mentions of past drug use.
> 
> I do not own any rights to the show or characters.

FBI BAU Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan sat next to the battered form of his best friend, Spencer Reid. 

Morgan seethed, laboring to contain his explosive anger about having not found the Unsub responsible yet. He had seen the younger agent hurt numerous times over the years, but at least with those times he could pretend that Reid was sleeping and he knew what to expect when he regained consciousness - the same old quirky genius, probably asking for Jello. This time, there were so many tubes and wires and bandages that it wasn’t possible to use make-believe as a comfort, and Morgan didn’t dare to imagine how his best friend may be changed. He just needed to find who did this. 

Spencer had been in a medically induced coma for ten days and the team took turns staying by his side 24/7 until the doctor let them know early that morning how the medicine keeping him asleep would be stopped so he could start waking up. Hotch had commanded Morgan to be the person Reid woke up to, explaining that he would feel safest. Feeling safe is what Reid would need the most. The rest of the team would be working on any new leads they could find - there hadn’t been many.

Morgan flipped through the clipboard at the end of the Reid’s bed for the fifth time that day, still striving to put together the pieces of what happened to him.

When the team had arrived at the hospital the night Reid was picked up from the alley, they waited hours without getting any information. Eventually, a doctor came out and insisted that the team sit down before he started with the long list of injuries. 

The back of Spencer’s skull was fractured and caused minor brain swelling that the doctors had gotten under control with the coma. His jaw had been dislocated and reset multiple times prior to his arrival at the hospital, so he had swelling that made his face look rounder than usual and the medical staff had struggled to intubate him. Seven ribs were broken and Reid had been stabbed in the abdomen, assumingly with a small knife, three times in a strategic triangular manner that avoided all major organs, yet grazed his spleen, raising the need for an emergency splenectomy when he arrived at the hospital. Reid’s right leg had received multiple blows with a hard object that resulted in numerous breaks and fractures to his tibia. Bruising on his inner arms combined with collapsed veins meant he had been repeatedly drugged, although none of the usual drug tests came back positive. They were told they’d have to wait for more extensive testing. 

It was the first time that Morgan could remember everyone in his team having the same reaction, all of them going completely silent with tears welling up in their eyes. Even the ever-stoic Hotchner’s eyes looked dewey. The kid basically defined innocent, the only sin Hankel could find being that he had forced his mother to get help, which wasn’t a sin in Morgan’s book.

As the team mourned for their injured comrade, the doctor cleared his throat, unfinished. 

“Spencer has various soft tissue injuries that are indicative of sexual assault and torture.”

Penelope let out a small sob immediately, finally too upset to keep quiet and optimistic. Morgan hugged her to his chest, comforting her to keep himself from breaking down, too. Hotchner huffed in and out deep breaths while holding the side of his forehead with one hand and closing his eyes. JJ stared blankly ahead in a horrified trance, tears running down her cheeks. Rossi faced away from the doctor, chin balanced on his hand, face full of anguish. Emily sat on the other side of Garcia, gently rubbing her shoulder and fighting the quivering of her lips while she looked up and tried to blink away the tears. 

“What injuries indicate Reid was tortured?” Hotch asked softly.

The doctor looked broken, like Reid’s case might make him throw his arms up and retire right then and there. “He’s extremely malnourished and dehydrated, which indicates starvation,” The doctor responded gently, “ he’s also covered in contusions and abrasions that appear to be from beatings with a blunt object, along with ligature marks from restraints.. And there are small burns on his chest, indicative of electrocution. What really seals my opinion that he was tortured is the fact that he has pleurisy.”

“What is pleurisy?” Morgan demanded, wishing the doctor had explained without needing to be prompted.

The doctor remained grim and sighed. He leaned back a little in his chair across from the agents. “Pleurisy is the inflammation of the lining of the lungs caused by fluid. We drained the fluid with a chest tube and have sent it to be tested.Taking into account your agent’s other injuries, I believe the fluid and pleurisy were caused by waterboarding.” 

Reid stirred next to Morgan, who had been lost in thought about what the doctor had told them. The monitor for his heartbeat rose rapidly. He made small choking noises, fighting to breathe on his own around the tube that had dutifully taken up the job of breathed for him during the last ten days. Derek jumped to his feet and ran to the doorway, yelling for help.

Nurses scurried in and carefully removed the tube stuffed down Spencer’s throat, leaving the young man coughing and drawing in sharp breaths while Morgan stood back in worried quietness. One of the nurses gently held an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, speaking about deep breathing. His eyes fluttered open and closed as he battled his way awake.

The doctor appeared abruptly, speaking in a loud, clear voice as he peeled open Reid’s eyes and shined a small flashlight. “Hi Dr. Reid. My name is Dr. Slade. Do you know where you are?”

Spencer’s breathing and heart rate had slowed, the deep breaths helping immensely. His eyes kept rolling back when he tried opening them. “Hos..hospital?” 

Morgan’s body filled with relief that Reid could still form words. They hadn’t been sure what kind of brain damage he could have.

“Yes! Very good, Dr. Reid!” Dr. Slade exclaimed, overly animated about his patient’s ability to talk. 

“Water?” Spencer’s scratchy voice asked.

A nurse appeared with a small plastic cup and straw.

“We’re going to need to move the bed in order for you to be sitting up a little to drink, okay?” The doctor signalled for the nurse to press the little bed remote that lifted the top half of the bed up.

Reid groaned, gripping the blanket in fists and gasping, the heart monitor beeping wildly once again. As soon as the bed had him almost sitting up, it stopped moving and one of the nurses lifted the oxygen mask off his face for the straw to slip between his lips. 

Following a few eager swallows, Reid slowly blinked his eyes - finally gaining enough control to not let them roll back - and panned around the room. He stopped on Morgan.

“Hi,” His voice couldn’t seem to make it above a loud whisper.

Morgan moved between nurses and Dr. Slade, who were looking over his vitals and murmuring about medical stuff Morgan didn’t care about, and came closer to Reid. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy. How are you feeling?”

Spencer’s face wasn’t nearly as swollen as it had been the first few days he spent in the hospital, making him look almost normal besides the small bruises and scrapes across his skin, paired with the deeper than usual hollows of his cheeks. He gave a small smile, taking Morgan by complete surprise. “It kinda hurts to breathe... and talk.. and think.. But I’m good, considering?” Reid answered, tilting his voice at the end of his last words so it sounded like a question, one of his normal little quirks that Morgan missed terribly. His brow furrowed and his eyes gazed down slightly in thought. “How long was I asleep?”

Morgan could barely contain his joy. He’d been scared out of his mind about everything being different with his best friend, about all the little quirks that made him who he was having been erased. He could tell that they weren’t, even with the few words spoken so far.

With Reid awake, everything could almost feel normal again, like he hadn’t been gone for so long.“It’s been ten and a half days. We were really worried about you, man.”

Before either one of the agents could continue their conversation, Dr. Slade interrupted. “Dr. Reid, we’d like to run a few basic tests on your brain function. I promise you and the other agents can talk as soon as we make sure you’re alright.”

Spencer nodded in understanding and Morgan slipped into the hall to inform the rest of the team of their favorite agent’s consciousness.

Hotch answered on the first ring, putting the phone on speaker to let everyone hear and talk excitedly. They were all set up in one of the hospital’s conference rooms a few floors down, so Morgan knew they’d be to Reid’s room within minutes.

“How does he seem to be doing?” Hotch asked.

Morgan smiled to himself. “He seems normal. Well, Reid normal.”

“That’s good to hear, we’ll be up in about 10 minutes.”

Just as he pressed the red “end” button on his cell phone, he heard a shout and rushed back into the room.

“Dr. Reid, please just calm dow-” Dr. Slade stammered. Morgan could guess he was the one who he heard shout from the hallway, judging by the fact that Reid’s voice couldn’t go that loud since he had woken up.

Spencer was trying to sit up more, holding his ripped out IV in his right hand while his other hand laid limply to his side and dribbled blood on the blanket. The monitors beeped wildly around them.

“You have a legal obligation,” Reid snapped out hoarsely, inhaling a gasped breath, “to allow me access to my medical records..” Another painful sounding gasp. “Rule 17-4612 of the DCMR Standards of Conduct states that- ” 

“Spence,” Morgan called out, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t worried. “Tell me what’s going on?”

Reid looked up at his friend in frustration, breathing hard with a sheen of sweat developing across his face. “He won’t let me see my chart!”

Dr. Slade turned to Morgan, exasperated. “He’s upset about being on pain medication. As his doctor, I feel that it would be in his best interest to talk to him about the extent of his injuries with a psychiatrist present, after he has been conscious for more than ten minutes and with his pain manag-”

“Morgan, this isn’t fair! I deserve to know about and have control of my own body!” The young agent blurted, his raspy voice rising in pitch a few octaves with agitation. He batted away the nurses who approached him with new IV supplies and kept bringing the oxygen mask back up to his face. 

Derek took a deep breath and turned to Dr. Slade. “The rest of the team is on their way up, would it be okay to wait for them and then he can read it himself with us all here as support? You have to understand that Reid would prefer to get the facts from the chart instead of the watered down version that you and some therapist would give to him.”

He then turned to his best friend. “Listen Kid, I know that you’re afraid of narcotics, but you’re too hurt to just stick it out with the pain this time. There are pain management plans that will help you to be on a very controlled dose of medication and monitored every step of the way. It will not become an addiction again.” When Spencer gave him a questioning look Morgan continued with, “The whole team has been doing research into the best options for you. It was obvious that you’d need to control the pain somehow. You’ll have all of us to help you, Reid.”

Spencer leaned back, worn out from sitting up more than the bed had been inclined. “Can I at least  _ try _ without medication?”

The older doctor closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, handing the chart to Morgan. “We need to restart the IV to keep you hydrated. Tell the nurses when you’re ready for relief from the pain. Someone will be in to check on you every hour or so and the psychiatrist will come to see you at some point today.” With that, Dr. Slade left the room without another word, nurses trailing after him once they got Reid’s IV set back up and put the mask back over his mouth and nose..

Morgan let out a tired breath of air and flopped into his chair next to the bed. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t remember anything. Seriously, nothing. I remember everything, but I can’t remember.” Reid paused, his eyelids drooping with fatigue,“You said I was gone for ten days?”

Morgan pressed his lips together, not looking the younger agent in the eyes.

Reid sensed it. “How long was I gone, Derek? Who took me?”

“A month, and we don’t know.”

Spencer’s eyes got big in understanding and he looked down at his hands. “Oh.”

The two went silent, uneasiness heavy in the air.

“Hotch isn’t going to let me out in the field on crutches.” Reid said, changing the subject and glaring at the large outline under the blanket of his cast..

“No, I’m not.” Hotch answered, walking into the room with the rest of the group.

Garcia and JJ rushed to him, immediately. Prentiss stood at their heels, not wanting to be in the way, yet wanting her own turn to be near him. Rossi and Hotch stood at the end of his bed with big smiles. 

“Hey!” Spencer rasped out, putting on a grin as the girls kissed his forehead and gripped his sore hands, chattering happily for a few minutes about how glad they were to have him back.

“Are we ready?” Reid asked Morgan impatiently, reaching for the clipboard that held his chart.

Derek set his jaw, wishing for a way to protect the young genius’s mind from what he was about to learn had happened to his body.

He released his hold on the clipboard for it to slip into Reid’s hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me kudos and/or comments! Thank you so much for reading!!!!!


	4. Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but hey, it's finally leading somewhere! Please remember to leave me kudos and comments to keep my motivation up to write more chapters!!!!!! I am a child, I need attention. And TELL ME IF THERE ARE TYPOS OR THINGS WORDED BAD OR WEIRD!!!!!!! 
> 
> Also, not sure if anyone noticed/cares but with each chapter, Reid is kind of seen through a different agent's eyes, so in this chapter he's only called "Reid" in dialogue because it's JJ's view and she would only use his last name if she were referring to him in front of a witness or something.
> 
> Warnings: Not too much for this chapter, mostly just emotions and it's kind of a filler because the next chapter should be a big one.

FBI BAU Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau sat on the edge of Spence’s bed, watching his face wearily as he scanned and flipped through the pages of his chart. He read just as fast as his normal pace, dragging his finger under the lines as he went, with his sweaty eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Watching him reminded her of how Henry had picked up so many traits from her closest friend - including furrowing his little brows when he concentrated. 

Henry had missed Spencer badly, asking daily when his uncle would come over to teach him more magic tricks and do fun science experiments. JJ and Will had argued over what they should tell him with Spence’s disappearance; JJ wanted to keep saying he had gone on a trip and Will wanted to tell Henry the truth. She won the argument. Will’s position was only backed up by the idea that Spence might not come back. JJ refused to face that possibility, and her little boy was only four - it wouldn’t be right to expose him to such a scary situation at that age. 

Spence set the chart in his lap, glancing at the patiently waiting agents around him. It had taken him less than five minutes to get through the thick stack of papers detailing his injuries. He yanked off the oxygen mask in annoyance, setting it on the bed. His lips looked too pale and he made a soft wheezing sound with every breath. His eyes dropped to his lap, staring at nothing in particular with an expression that hid all emotions.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” Hotch asked, breaking the silence.

Spencer’s eyes darted up, rimmed with tears that were not spilling over. “I don’t remember anything. Nothing. None of this makes sense. It’s not normal to have such a perfect piece of time missing, I should have  _ some _ memories. Or I should be missing much more. Neither drugs or head injuries can explain this.”

“How about you tell us the last thing you do remember before you woke up in the alley?” JJ suggested.

Spence looked back down, his eyebrows pinching together again in concentration and his eyes squinting as if he was trying to see something far away. “My clock showed 9:06pm. I was at my desk working on the last of the paperwork for the Detroit cannibal case. We had gotten back to Quantico late, so all of you went home. I needed to get the weapon discharge paperwork filled out before leaving. I was writing in the section where it asks about the situation circumstances. I had written half a paragraph and was mid sentence… no, I was mid word, too. And that’s it. I woke up in the alley. Have you already been there?”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, we checked it out. There was nothing but your blood and the paramedic’s supplies.” 

Spence shook his head, blinking rapidly. The team took notice of how his pain seemed to be rising, he looked like he was having trouble focusing. He wiped sweat off his upper lip. “How soon did you look? Was the ground wet?”

Hotch stood up, deep in thought. “We went there about ten hours after you were found. The ground was dry. But the CSI team arrived hours before us... Garcia, can you pull up the pictures they took?” Hotch turned to Penelope with his request.

“On it!” She responded, producing a tablet from her bag and poking things until the pictures came up.

“Yes, the ground is wet in these!” Prentiss exclaimed, looking over Penelope’s shoulder.

Rossi looked over her other shoulder. “What does it mean? It didn’t rain that night.”

“It means,” Spence coughed and groaned before continuing, “that someone cleaned the alley before leaving me there.”

JJ snatched the oxygen mask Spence had discarded and held it back to his face. He turned his head, trying to get away from it.

“Spence, come on. Your lungs aren’t healed. You need extra oxygen.”

He turned his head back to her in defeat, allowing her to put it over his face and pull the stretchy green strap around to the back of his bandaged head. 

Hotch took out his cell phone, excusing himself to make a call to Kevin and ask for him to look up the closest water sources to the alley. With Garcia there at the hospital, she couldn’t access as much or as fast as Kevin could in her office.

Morgan paced the small room. “Okay, so why would someone clean up the alley? Were they trying to hide something?”

Spencer lifted the oxygen mask to talk. “No, I don’t think it has anything to do with that. Someone dressed me and left me there to be found. I think they didn’t like the idea of leaving me someplace dirty.”

“So the Unsub was trying to take care of you? That would point towards remorse. I find that hard to believe with the way he treated you during the abduction.” JJ scoffed.

Spence gave her a confused expression. “Wait, what? It was caught on tape?”

JJ realized her error - no one had told Spencer that they had footage of his kidnapping, or that they had clear images of the Unsub’s face. They really hadn’t told him much at all.

“The bullpen has cameras, so yes, there is a recording of what happened that night.” Emily spoke up, carefully.

“Kid, we weren’t able to get any leads from it.” Morgan said, still bothered by the amount of evidence pointing nowhere.

Spence closed his eyes and let out a long shaky breath under the oxygen mask. “Garcia, could you pull it up for me?”

“Um, well, I-I think maybe we should wait for Hotch to come back?” Penelope stuttered, her voice more high pitched than usual. Just like the rest of the agents, she was concerned that he may be too fragile after reading about what his body had gone through.. 

The heart monitor started rising and Spencer panted out breaths. “Am I on this case or not?” He hissed.

“Reid, come on. You haven’t even been awake an hour. You’re in a lot of pain. You just need to take it easy to start. Too much, too fast isn’t going to help you.” Morgan said, lightly, trying to soothe the young agent. 

“I want all of you out.” He demanded.

JJ set her hand over the back of his. “Spence, we’re just worried about you.”

He jerked his hand away. “Information doesn’t overwhelm me. Not knowing overwhelms me. If you’re not going to give me any information, please leave. I want to be alone.” He wouldn’t look anyone in the eyes.

“Spencer, calm down. We want to be here for you.” Rossi said.

“This  _ is  _ calm, and I want all of you out.” He replied sharply. 

Spence grabbed the bulky remote with all of the buttons for controlling the T.V. and calling for medical assistance. He pressed the nurse button, asking that security be sent to remove the people in his room. 

The agents shuffled out of the room before security arrived, catching Hotch in the hallway and letting him know what had happened. He posted two guards outside the hospital room and assured the agents that it was for the best to give Spence time before letting him dive into the case. Reading about the state of his body would be very different from seeing himself on video during the abduction, or seeing all the pictures that had been taken of his injuries while he was in a coma. They also had no way of knowing what seeing his captor would trigger.

When the team made it back to their hospital conference room, a box wrapped in deep red with a matching bow sat on the large table in the middle of the room. The silver gift tag read:  _ Darling, don’t forget me _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEAVE ME A REVIEW/COMMENT/KUDOS/CRITICISM  
> ANYTHING IS WELCOME  
> I MEAN NOT ANYTHING PLEASE DON'T CALL ME NAMES  
> BUT MOSTLY ANYTHING  
> MOTIVATE ME


	5. The Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I honestly have no excuse.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Sexual Assault, Pain/Torture
> 
> Please let me know of any other warnings that could be added and comment any typos or yucky wording areas that you see!

FBI Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi made it to the wrapped box first, reading the tag out loud for everyone to hear. 

“Should we get bomb squad in to check it out first?” Prentiss asked, right as Rossi hooked his newly gloved fingers under some of the loose wrapping.

Aaron nodded, motioning for David to move away from the package. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with, we need to take extra precautions. Rossi, you and I will work with the bomb squad before opening it. JJ, can you and Garcia go to the security office and find out how this got here? Morgan, you and Prentiss should go back to Reid’s room. I know he doesn’t want anyone in there with him, but we need trained eyes posted at his door. If the Unsub is in the hospital, he might be disguised and the guards aren’t going to know what to look for.”

Everyone split up, going their separate ways as directed. Rossi had moved back and unhooked his eager fingers from the wrapping, taking the time to analyze the outside of the “gift” while Aaron called the bomb squad. The color of the wrapping reminded him of how he would woo women as a young man by sending them a bouquet of roses with similarly anonymous tags. Of course, the women knew it was him and he won a date or two out of it. The “secret admirer” thing was meant to be seductive and flirtatious. He traced his eyes over the handwritten cursive on the gift tag. 

“Aaron, I don’t think we’re dealing with a bomb here…” Rossi said slowly. “It’s all too..  _ romantic _ . Look closer at the bow on top, the loops are narrow in the middle because small fingers were used to tie it. Look at the handwriting, the way it slants and the roundness of the loops.” Rossi stared into the head agent’s eyes. “This is from a woman.”

Aaron paused on the phone with the bomb squad as he listened to his friend. Following a moment of shock, he quickly hung up on whoever he was speaking to and dialed another number. “Garcia, can you get everyone on the phone please?” Once they were all able to hear him, he said, “We think there’s a second unsub and it’s a woman. Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anyone suspicious… yes, we’re opening it now.” He turned to Rossi. “Open it. Slowly. Stop if you think it’s dangerous.” The whole team knew it was extremely unlikely for a female unsub to plant a bomb.

Rossi did his best not to move the bow too much, plucking it off of the top of the wrapping and setting it on the table before continuing. He hooked his gloved fingers back under the loose wrapping paper he had started on earlier, giving it a prudent tug that unstuck the small piece of tape holding the corner down. After a few more soft tugs at the dark red paper, a white box slid out. Rossi glanced up at Hotch, who tilted his chin in approval for him to continue, still holding the phone to his ear.

The eldest agent grasped the top of the white box, slid off the lid, and set it on the table beside the bow and wrapping paper. 

He gingerly brushed aside the red tissue paper and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Rossi lifted the silver disc up for Aaron to see.

 

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Reid slumped back when the agents left, agony washing over him. When he had woken up, the pain was at a dull roar and he felt that it could be manageable - especially when paired with the blinding rage and fear he experienced upon seeing the narcotics pouring through his IV. In his foggy drugged state, he didn’t believe that pain would be much of a problem. 

The pain was a major problem. Reid imagined that the feeling in his head must have resembled what getting hit by the sharp part of a spade would be like. It ached beyond his comprehension - which said something. His mind felt unpleasantly hard to navigate with  _ ouch _ layered between every thought. Taking deep breaths to try to keep himself calm wasn’t an option because his ribs were so shattered and his lungs burned as if he had inhaled acid. At least he couldn’t feel his leg, but he hadn’t moved it yet. 

Spencer let his thoughts go to the 8th page of his chart. He closed his eyes, battling the tears that overflowed onto the tops of his cheeks and clenching his jaw in a fight for control over his emotions. Pain flared up in his mandible, but he ignored it.

_ Sexual Assault. _ The young agent felt like screaming, like tearing everything around him apart, like curling in a ball and crying until the end of time. Instead, he stayed in his leaned back position with his teary eyes closed and jaw clenched, trying to analytically fathom the whole idea. 

How could he not remember something so terrible happening to him? He wasn’t a normal person, he didn’t just repress memories. He didn’t just forget awful things. Reid always remembered everything in excruciating detail. The chart had described the head injury as possibly causing amnesia, but how could it block such a precise time period? None of it made sense.

A hot shower sounded really nice. Scrubbing himself down with bleach sounded really  _ really  _ nice. Spencer was disgusted with his body, afraid of what bits of his attacker might still remain on him.  _ In him _ . He felt his stomach lurch at the thought of someone’s sexual fluids sitting within his cavity. Would going to the bathroom be different now? Would he ever be able to have a healthy relationship? It’s not like he was interested in anyone but what if he wanted to be? His mind spun with questions about what his new life as a “survivor” would entail.

As the young agent sorted through his anxious mind, trying to find hidden answers somewhere, he heard the door to his room open quietly. His eyes didn’t open instantly, assuming the intruder to be one of his fellow agents. 

“I don’t want you here.” Reid groaned.

The room remained quiet. 

Annoyance and anger flared at the lack of response, so he opened his eyes, ready to argue with whichever of his friends thought this was a good time to disregard his wish to be alone. He startled to find his eyes met with a small nurse, standing at the foot of his bed staring at him with wide brown eyes. 

Spencer bit his chapped bottom lip under the oxygen mask in embarrassment. “Hi.. Sorry… I thought you were someone else. I still do not need pain medication.” he said softly, internally beating himself up over making the poor nurse feel terrible.

The nurse wore plain blue scrubs that seemed baggy on her small frame. She was an extremely small woman, both in height and in mass. One could believe her to be a child if they didn’t see that her body was developed beyond puberty. Her pale blonde hair fell to her jaw in a curly, stringy mess against ghostly skin. If not for the smattering of freckles, Reid would wonder if she were albino. The nurse didn’t have a name tag.

Before he could react, the woman snatched the remote to call the real nurses away from Spencer’s reach, giving him a gentle look. “You don’t need to call for help. I just wanted to see you.” she said in high pitched voice.

Having been in situations like this before, Reid switched over to negotiator mode. “I’m sure I want to see you too, but they said I hit my head really bad and now I can’t remember a lot. What is your name?” He pasted on a forced smile, slowly taking off the oxygen mask to speak.

The woman looked sad, “I know, I’m sorry. That was my fault.” 

“How was it your fault? I promise I won’t be upset if you tell me.”

She was timid and almost child-like, sending red flags up in Spencer’s mind of mental or physical abuse at a young age. “I left a gift for you with your friends.”

“What is the gift?” Reid swallowed, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

Biting her lip and looking down, she smiled and glanced back up under her too-pale eyelashes bashfully. “It’s a video of our first time together.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say, too many emotions crashed over him. He opted for the blank numbness to take over. “Thank you for the gift, maybe it will help me remember our relationship.”

The woman looked elated, grinning excitedly.

“Did you help me with medicine sometimes?” Reid asked, hoping to get information about whatever he was injected with.

She nodded eagerly. “It helped you not be so scared, not hurt so much.” She sat on the edge of his bed facing him, her leg pressing up against his non-broken leg. 

Spencer suppressed the urge to cringe away. 

“Thank you, it really helped me. What medicine did you use?”

“Mama made it when we were kids, I don’t know what’s in it but it works!” She seemed completely relaxed now, the timid girl gone. 

It clicked in his mind that the woman was suffering from severe, untreated borderline personality disorder. With that conclusion, he knew it was time to stop worrying about information and worry instead about getting help.

“Is it okay if we call my friends? I think they would love to meet you and thank you for making me feel better.” Reid inched his hand toward the call-nurse remote she still held. 

“No!” She exclaimed, ripping the remote away and staring at him with rage. “I came so we could have our last time together!” The woman set the remote by his feet and stood to take off her pants.  

“Wait, wait, wait..please wait!” Spencer whimpered, not able to hide the panic anymore. “I’m just-I’m just really sore right now… why don’t we do this another time, when it can be better and we won’t have to be so careful?”

Bare from the hips down, the woman quickly moved into a straddling position on top of him, ignoring his pleas and groans from a new throbbing sensation elicited in his leg. She pushed the blanket down until the top of his thighs were visible and then pinched the bottom of his hospital gown, scooting it up to his armpits. Reid was exposed. 

The woman giggled, grabbing his catheter. “We can’t do it with this tube here, silly!” 

“ Let’s just wait, please? We can just wait, please please please… “ He begged.

She gave the catheter a hard yank.

Reid screamed, but his voice was so hoarse, the sound barely filled the room.

The woman rubbed up and down his limp manhood. “Good boy, good boy! We just don’t have time, you know? It just needs to be right now.” 

Spencer sobbed, weakly grappling with her hands, trying to get them away from his sore length. 

A knock at the door made her freeze. 

Morgan’s voice rang through the door. “Reid, we’re gonna be out here if you need anything. You’re not alone, Kid.” 

“Derek!” he screamed in his scratchy voice as loud as he possibly could. 

It wasn’t loud enough.

The woman clamped her hand over his mouth. Spencer tore at it desperately as she continued moving her hand up and down over his member. 

An idea in the mess of pain and fear popped into his mind. If he couldn’t be loud enough, maybe  _ she _ could. 

Reid poked his tongue out against the woman’s hand. She seemed surprised, but, as he expected, she let her fingers dip into his mouth thinking he was trying to participate in some kind of sex act. His sore jaw snapped down as hard as he could make it. The woman shrieked and ripped her hand back, blood gushing from the wound. 

Morgan and Prentiss burst through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please keep leaving me comments and kudos... Seriously, this fic will not get finished if people don't shower me with compliments! I wish I were joking :D


	6. Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this is a REALLY short chapter and that's because when I extended it, where this chapter ends is an obvious break point that I have to leave in for everything else to work out! Honestly, I probably should have just included this in the last chapter - so if you'd like to consider it an extension of Chapter 5 that's totally fine with me. I am part the way through the chapter after this one!
> 
> Warnings: Not too much for this chapter - major cliffhanger I guess? 
> 
> Please leave me comments and kudos and bookmarks and anything that you think will motivate me to keep writing!!!!!!! I'm very self-absorbed, you've gotta fuel that!!! 
> 
> *POINT OUT ANY TYPOS OR BAD WRITING OR PLOT HOLES*

FBI Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss stood next to Morgan in the hospital room doorway with her handgun raised toward the back of a woman straddling Spencer. Moments earlier, she and Derek had been standing right outside the door on the phone with Hotch, as he informed them of a new Unsub and a DVD found in the mysterious package. 

When they took over guarding Spence’s door, the previous guards told them that a nurse had entered to check his vitals, but the two agents thought nothing of it - they had no idea how long ago the nurse had entered the room and surely these cops knew to look at her name tag and credentials before she entered 

Apparently, they didn’t. 

Emily thought it was horrifying how not even 15 minutes ago the space was full of highly trained agents. Spencer was safe 15 minutes ago. She concluded instantly that this female unsub must have been watching for them to leave so she could enter as soon as the youngest agent was alone. Emily vowed in her mind that he wouldn’t be left without one of his team again, whether he liked it or not.

“Put your hands up! Slowly!” Morgan shouted.

They watched the back of the small woman’s arms as she seemed to be slowly moving them up, but her hands still weren’t visible. She stopped moving before her hands made it into view. Both Emily and Morgan knew that shooting her would be too risky in the position she was in - they could accidentally shoot Reid.

Prentiss silently stepped sideways to try to see Spencer’s face, noting that the woman had no pants on. From where she and Morgan were standing in the doorway, the bunched up hospital blanket blocked the view of her bare skin.. 

“I said, ‘hands up’!” Morgan shouted again. 

The woman didn’t move.

Reid was finally in Emily’s view. He had blood dripping down his chin and she could see his chest rising and falling rapidly. She recognized his held up hands facing palm-out to the woman as a sign and mouthed  _ weapon  _ to Morgan. The woman’s hands weren’t within eyesight for Prentiss, but she trusted Reid’s response, worried about what kind of small weapon the woman could have and how much harder taking her down would be without knowing. If it were a bomb, she could take out half the building; if it were a gun, she could kill Spencer and herself before anyone could stop her. Prentiss hoped she had a knife, the easiest out of all the weapons to disarm.

“You don’t need to do this,” Spence whispered, “my friends understand that you just want to be with me.” His bloodshot eyes darted to Emily and back to the woman. “They just think we should wait until I’m feeling better, so it will be nicer. They just want it to be nicer for us. That will be really soon, then we’ll have our chance, okay?”

“He’s right, men are no fun when they don’t feel well… I bet he’ll be up for everything tomorrow.” Emily played along, not certain what the two were talking about.

The woman hung her head in anguish. “It’s too late. He knows I’m here. Our chance is over.”

“No, no, no, whoever it is, it’s not too late, my friends will help us, it’s not too late, no, wai-” Reid pleaded.

The agents both dove forward, failing to get to the bed in time.

Blood splattered everywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motivate me to write more!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please remember to leave me a comment so I have the motivation to continue this fanfic! If I don't think people will like it, I'm going to give up!


End file.
